


Long Live the King

by Owldorado



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Mamacita (Super Junior Music Video)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owldorado/pseuds/Owldorado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just shy of noon when they put Siwon in the ground. It was three o' clock when Jungsoo hanged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live the King

  
The church bell groaned mournfully in the early morning. Once. Twice. Eleven times.

  
It was just shy of noon when they put Siwon in the ground. The whole town was in attendance. Only his mother and the old church bell's cries echoed off the sand as they lowered his wooden coffin into the earth. It was a short ceremony; even the pastor was at a loss for words. They saw him off with a prayer for his soul and let the boys get to work putting his body to rest.

  
No one wanted to linger. No one wanted to think about it. It still lingered, thick and pungent, like cigar smoke saturating the whole of Town Square.

  
“He left us too soon.” Ryeowook's lips curled thin, eyes downcast, desperate to avoid the filling grave behind them. “He was a good man.”

  
He started when Heechul's hand curled around his shoulder in what he'd hoped would be accepted as a comforting gesture. The intent must have been clearer in the arched knit of his brows because it was only when their eyes met that Ryeowook relaxed. Heechul gave a gentle squeeze, saying, “Things around here won't be the same without him.”  
  


* * * * *  
  


The church bell rang out long and low. Once. Twice. Three times.  
  


It was three o' clock when Jungsoo hanged. On a Sunday.

  
No one wept for the outlaw, not even the old church bell. It cried out damnation and judgment, spitting curses with each mighty bellow. Siwon's mother didn't attend.

  
There was no prayer for the murderer's soul. The pastor didn't speak a word. A breech of protocol no one seemed inclined to contest.

  
There was fear in his eyes and a quake in his boots when he was dragged up the stairs onto the platform. His lip trembled when the rope was fitted around his skinny, scruffy neck.

  
His neck didn't break when he dropped. (Rumor spread later that it was no accident.) Everyone lingered, riveted. They dispersed without a word once the kicking stopped.

  
No one talked about it in the open, but the whispers slipped through the cracks in the floorboards and windows.

  
_Good riddance._  
  
* * * * *  
  
“You be careful wearing that badge. That ain't no lucky star on your chest.”  
  


Donghae frowned nervously down at his chest. He plucked at the metal badge delicately, as if afraid the bad luck might transfer to his fingers if he wasn't careful.  
  


Heechul rolled his eyes. “Go screw a cactus, Youngwoon. He's gonna be fine.” Youngwoon made an affronted noise, which went completely ignored by Heechul, who was too busy pouring up a pair of shots. One for himself, and one for their new sheriff. He plopped it on the counter in front of him with a clink of a toast and a wink. “On the house.”  
  


Donghae's smile made him look half a decade younger, almost like a teenager. “Thanks.” He sounded relieved, and not just about the pennies he was saving on booze.  
  


“Don't mention it,” Heechul said. “This town needs more folks like you.”  
  


* * * * *  
  


Fingers traced curved edges and lips split, teeth bared to match the gleam of diamonds in the candlelight. They never had recovered the stolen goods from the bank, but that didn't mean they were lost. Oh no, they were quite secure now. Quite secure indeed.  
  


The crown was a bit small, but not so much that it wouldn't fit and balance atop his head. It still looked nice in the mirror. Nice enough he couldn't resist the urge to stand back and admire his own reflection, eyes raking from head to toe and back again. It made him look regal, powerful even. The thought sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. Oh, how beautifully every piece had fallen into place.   
  


Heechul grinned idly at himself, plucking carefully at a few hairs that had fallen out of place. It was nice to finally be properly crowned, even if he'd never needed ornaments to maintain his rule. Granted, he'd had to watch himself while Siwon was in charge – he was more astute than his senile predecessor – but that was behind him now. (It had been unexpected, the shootout in the square, but not entirely inconvenient.) With the murderer dead and a new sheriff in town the people would be too eager to return to a state of equilibrium to ask questions. They would be happy with quiet streets and good night sleeps and he would be happy to let them have just that. Getting what he wanted didn't require upsetting the balance, so long as everyone behaved.  
  


If they didn't, well... pawns were expendable and bullets were cheap.  
  


And my, my, my, it was good to be king.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have sort of liked the original ending to the Mamacita MV. Just a little.


End file.
